


"It's Not Okay"

by TheMageRebellion



Series: Nos Perdure d'Amour [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Naked Cuddling, Post-Here Lies the Abyss, you bet your ass fenris isn't letting cal go to weisshaupt alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 15:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6476533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMageRebellion/pseuds/TheMageRebellion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>#13 ("It's not ok") from the prompt meme.</p><p>Along the way to Weisshaupt, Cal encounters a surprise visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"It's Not Okay"

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a piece I've been meaning to write for a while now, and it just so happened to fit with the prompt! :D It references later events in "Noble" that I haven't posted yet, so I kept details to a minimum so I didn't give away spoilers.
> 
>   
> [Prompt list](http://seniorenchantertrevelyan.tumblr.com/post/142320145827/send-me-a-number-and-a-character-and-ill-write)  
>   
> [tumblr](http://www.seniorenchantertrevelyan.tumblr.com)  
> 

            Calliope Hawke didn’t lower the hood of her cloak when she entered the only inn within Perendale, but she didn’t bother to hide the blunted staff she held merely out of paranoia of an attack. The town was small and received few visitors, but even the miners that lived there would have gotten word of the events at Adamant.

            And who knew what kinds of people were tracking her movements in the hopes of assassinating—or capturing if they were feeling kind—the infamous Champion of Kirkwall.

            The innkeeper was wiping down the bar, regular patrons nursed their drinks, and a minstrel plucked at the strings of a well-worn lute in the corner.

            “A room, a bath, and some dinner,” Cal muttered to the innkeeper, passing him a pouch of coin and leaning her staff against the bar. “I’ll also pay extra if the water is heated.”

            The man cocked an eyebrow before glancing in the pouch. He grunted in response, but Cal saw him give a smile. There was probably more coin in that pouch than he’d seen in his entire life.

            A few minutes later the innkeeper placed a bowl of stew, a chunk of peasant bread, and a pint of cheap beer before her. She nodded her thanks and lowered her hood, digging in. Since leaving Skyhold Cal had had perhaps one or two real meals. Not that what she was currently eating counted, but it was better than the rations she’d run low on halfway through her journey.

            She heard the door open behind her, but she ignored it. _Probably a miner just getting off his shift._

            As she drained her cup, a wench appeared at her elbow. “Your room is ready for you, miss. Third on the left.”

            “Thanks,” she said. The fewer words she exchanged, the better. The last thing she needed was to be recognized along the way to Weisshaupt and have her cover blown. _No one needs to see me coming,_ she reminded herself.

            Cal finished off the last of the stew and bread when the innkeeper set another pint before her. “It’s on the house,” he said quietly. She again nodded her thanks. She nursed the drink for several minutes before hurrying up the wooden steps, which creaked and groaned under her metal-clad feet. She passed one door, two, three, before stopping at the fourth.

            Her blood ran cold.

            The door to her room was ajar, dim candlelight visible through the cracks.

            _Shit, shit, shit!_

            She’d avoided the Imperial highway, choosing to take back country roads generally only used by local farmers or hunters. Had someone been watching her since she first left Skyhold? Had Corypheus sent an agent, knowing she’d be nothing but trouble if left alive?

            Cal silently shifted into a defensive stance, holding her staff in both hands and drawing on her mana to cast a minor barrier. Whoever it was, they would be well prepared.

            She prodded the door open with her staff before slinking into the poorly-lit room, cursing the floorboards as they creaked beneath her.

            Out of the corner of her eye there was a flash of movement, and she struck. The end of her staff caught on a massive greatsword. She swore, attempting to dislodge her weapon by delivering a swift kick to her assailant’s ribs. They grunted and swung their sword downward, disarming her.

            The blade was at her heart and, for the first time, she saw their face.

            White hair was pulled back into a messy bun, though a few strands hung loose after their scuffle and the tips of his delicately pointed ears were visible. Tan skin was branded with what looked like tattoos, but Cal knew that the white, lyrium-infused lines would glow blue if he really meant to harm her. Full lips were slightly parted as he controlled his breathing. Moss-green eyes, so beautiful it broke her heart, met her own and she recognized the fire behind them.

            “Fenris!”

            The elf gave a lopsided grin, but didn’t sheath his blade. “You’re out of practice.”

            Maker, but the things that voice did to her. “I was never really good at extremely close-quarters combat,” she quipped, returning a smile. She glanced down at the blade and then back up again. “Can you sheathe your sword now, please?”

            When he did Cal picked up her staff, clucking her tongue in distaste. “Aw, now there’s a scratch.”

            “You’ll manage,” Fenris joked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

            Cal shut the door and leaned against the wall. “How’d you find me?”

            He donned his customary scowl. “ _Varric_ sent me a letter.”

            She knew where he was going with it, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right. (Which he always was.) “How nice of him! I assume he told you all the intriguing gossip surrounding the Inquisition and their illustrious leader, Lady Zara Trevelyan! Did you know that she and—”

            “Tell me about Adamant, Cal,” he growled.

            Her smile faltered as she remembered the battle—the collapsing walkway, the horrors of the raw Fade, Zara collapsing in fear of whatever the Nightmare had shown her, their battle with the demon, Stroud’s sacrifice.

            _Fenris is going to die, just like everyone you’ve ever cared about,_ the Nightmare had taunted. _And then who will be there for little Calliope?_

            Something in her face must have softened Fenris, because his scowled eased into concern. “Varric mentioned what the… _demon_ said to you. That you nearly stayed behind.” His voice broke, and she felt her heart contract painfully in sympathy.

            “Fenris,” she murmured, reaching out as he stood. “It’s okay now.”

            “It’s _not_ okay!” he snarled, crowding her against the wall (she was suddenly glad they were of a height, as she knew how intimidating he could be to someone smaller like Merrill or even Varric), and she retracted her hand. There were tears in his eyes.

            Both were silent for several moments.

            “This is about more than just Adamant, isn’t it?” Cal whispered.

            “You left,” Fenris snapped. “In the middle of the night with barely any word about where you were going, just a stupid note that said you’d be back! _Venhedis,_ Cal, what were you thinking?! I searched everywhere, but no one knew where you’d gone! Then a massive explosion destroys the Conclave Varric was supposed to be at, and I thought… I thought you had met him there…”

            “Fenris…”

            “And then _nothing_. For six months! Only rumors about red lyrium and Corypheus and whatever the Inquisitor’s name is!” He began pacing back and forth like a wolf caught in a cage. “And then, out of the blue, Varric, of _all people_ , writes and says you’re on your way to Weisshaupt to deliver some _message_. By the Maker, Cal, did you honestly expect me to stay in _Kirkwall_ of all places when I knew where you were headed?!”

            He fell silent, expecting a response. But Cal, for once, was speechless. Her mouth hung open as she tried to find the right _words_ to say. Tears pricked at her eyes but she stubbornly refused to let them fall.

            She was an ass.

            So instead of murmured apologies that would likely come out wrong, she threw her arms around his waist and pressed her face to his armored chest. He jolted in surprise but wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck.

            “Never do that to me again,” he said, the words muffled against her skin.

            “Okay,” she whispered.

            They held onto one another for several minutes, rocking back and forth, both loathe for the moment to pass. When they finally parted Cal wiped at her eyes and shot him a smile. “I’m going to bathe now, if you don’t mind. I smell worse than Lowtown after a rainstorm.”

            “Mind if I join you?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow and smiling back at her.

            “Sure, why not,” she said through her laughter.

            Both stripped out of their armor, metal falling to the floor loudly as they hurried to undress. Cal tripped twice as she tried to remove her trousers, earning her a laugh from Fenris. She couldn’t help the enormous grin that crossed her face when Fenris pulled her close and kissed her as she struggled to remove her breastband.

            Maker’s breath, but she had missed him! It felt wonderful to be held in his arms with hardly any clothing between them, nothing sexual but… intimate.

            They climbed into the tub, but the water had already begun to grow cold much to Fenris’ annoyance. Thankfully Cal was handy with fire spells, and instantly warmed the water to a decent temperature.

            After they’d cleaned themselves, Cal sat in Fenris’ lap and allowed him to run his hands through her hair while she traced the lyrium patterns on his chest.

            “Please never leave me again,” she heard him murmur.

            She placed a kiss to the hallow of his throat. “I promise.” She paused, thinking it over. “From now on, we do this together.”

            _Not even the Maker will separate me from you again._

**Author's Note:**

> All of your kudos, comments, and bookmarks mean the world to me! <3


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